Hauntwolf
by Paranoiia
Summary: Haunted by disturbing visions of his past and what he thinks must be his future, Remus is having trouble concentrating on everything around him. So, he turns to solitude, and rejects his friend's help.


"_Hoowooo!" The howl sounded as if it was miles away, deep in the forest, but he knew it was close. He could almost smell the sickly sweat that dripped from its fur; because that was in face what Fenrir Greyback was he was not human, he was an it, and nothing more. Remus pushed back the coarse blankets and jumped out from the bed, he scrambled around for a moment to pull on a shirt and then pulled open his bedroom door. He ran into his parent's bedroom, and shook his father awake._

"_Fenrir?" His father whispered; he had a sharp voice that cut through the air. Remus nodded, and went to wake his mother. Mrs. Lupin was sleeping soundly next to his father. "No, son, I'll wake her. You need to hide."_

_Remus didn't dare question his father, but he had no idea where he should hide. He knew about werewolves and their vicious nature, he understood completely that once transformed they have no human nature and would attack anyone. What Remus was not aware of, was the fact that his own father, Philip Lupin, had offended Fenrir in some way._

_Remus ran around his house, wondering if there would be somewhere safer outside for him to hide, when he heard the howling again. Much, much closer this time, he gulped and ran into the kitchen. He pulled open a cupboard, shoving pots and pans aside, and squeezed himself in. He was lucky to have such a small, slender frame, or he may not have fit at all._

_The cupboard door shut with a quiet thud, just as the front door slammed open, glass smashing. Remus quivered, oh, he hoped his mother was alright. There was the noise of a fuss, and then silence; Remus hadn't heard any screams, meaning his mother could not possibly have been found._

_More silence._

_And then, sniffing; Remus tried to remain as quiet as he possibly could as the sniffing continued. The cupboard door shook, and then came open slightly, thudding shut again. He'd been found._

"_Oh shit."_

_The door opened once again, this time remaining there, hanging on its rusty hinges. Fenrir growled and Remus felt unexplainable pain in his leg; and then everything went black…_

Remus sat up, breathing heavily and sweating, he shoved back the covers of his bed. The bedspread was coming off of the mattress and was wrinkled and damp. James and Sirius were kneeling next to him, looking slightly curious but extremely worried.

"Remus mate, you alright?" Sirius asked, his voice shaking a little. Remus managed to nod a small nod and gulped.

"Bad dream?" James inquired, Remus nodded again.

"Well, your color is coming back," Sirius noted, and Remus noticed, with slight relief, that he was no longer feeling the dull ache in his leg. He rubbed his legs, trying to act as if he was fixing his PJ pants, so that neither James nor Sirius got suspicious.

"Are you going to be okay, mate?" James asked, Remus could tell he wanted more answers; that he wanted more questions answered, but of course, he didn't dare ask. Remus wouldn't dare tell.

"I…I think so…it was just a bad dream that was all…" Remus murmured; he was trying to think of something that could be considered this haunting; this terrifying. "I was transformed and…I was killing people…" James and Sirius gave each other knowing looks, and nodded.

"Don't worry about that, we've got your back; we won't let you harm anyone," James gave a small smile, Remus nodded and gulped. He didn't like to lie; he was too good at it. Remus looked around the dim room, it was just the four of them, that is to say, it was Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter Pettigrew's room and they didn't share it with anyone else. This was probably for the better; considering the things that they talked about.

But something was amiss, Remus observed, something was not right. Something was missing.

"Where's Peter?" Remus asked, his voice was a little scratchy. Sirius looked at James, expecting and answer, but James just turned and looked at Peter's bed. The covers were lumpy, formed into the shape of a person, and before this moment, James hadn't given it a second glance. Obviously, Peter had expected just this, because the only thing in his bed, was a bunch of pillows.


End file.
